


Broken Floe

by 3amepiphany



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inception AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amepiphany/pseuds/3amepiphany
Summary: “You’re still worried about me, old man.”“I’m not the one making brash decisions. It’s a good team you have. Yurio would be a fine addition. But your experimentation, your bravado there... You know, Lilia has never changed her totem. I’ve only done it once. The adjustment period was frightening. This… is frightening. I have every right to be worried.” Yakov gestured with his free hand and shrugged. “I’m going to worry about you. All of you. That’s what I do.”





	Broken Floe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Namida: A Yuri!!! On Ice Angst Zine. This was a charity zine for The Trevor Project, and I am very grateful to have had the opportunity to rescue an old idea from the bin and give it a new purpose.
> 
> This fic explores death much in the same way the film Inception does - it is implied in its mentions of suicide, accident, murder. At the time of posting this I've chosen not to use Archive warnings as I don't feel any "death" within is gratuitous, nor do I feel as if there is an actual death despite the ever present danger of it in dream-state (and as portrayed in the film, one is obviously not in dream-state if they are actually dead in the waking world).
> 
> I place this note here as a soft warning of sorts, in any case. If, however, you feel I've misjudged and think that one of the Archive warnings would be a good fit, please let me know and I'll be happy to amend the matter at your kind request.
> 
> I've made two small technical edits, a correction to a sentence, and a small clarification that did not make it into the final publication due to time and editing constraints and previous choices. I felt this was a good opportunity to fix those errors now, and to give the correction and clarification a chance here. I do apologize for that. If you purchased the zine and can find the changes made, you win. I don't know what you win, but you win. :)
> 
> Thank you very much to the Namida Zine team of moderators for having me on this project. It means a lot to me, on many layers.
> 
> Dream on, dreamers.

Mila gave a sigh, and Georgi looked up from the paper he wasn’t actually reading, scanning the area carefully. Yuri put his soda down and sat back in his chair, not even bothering to continue the exercise at the moment, opting instead to watch the flock of pigeons flutter right back from where they had just landed, almost in slow-motion.

“He’s not ready,” he said after the whole flock had taken flight again, leaving the puddle where they’d congregated still, its glass-like surface darkening as the rest of their surroundings started to collapse.

Down the street, La Sagrada seemed to slump horribly, as if it were made of wet cardboard, sending debris and shrapnel everywhere.

Georgi was suddenly gone from between the two of them at the table, and Mila watched as Yurio barely had time to roll his eyes and throw his hands up before he too winked out of existence in front of her. After a moment, she felt her stomach lurch and that was that.

When she sat up, she looked over just in time to see Chris upending Victor out of his chair unceremoniously and onto the thin layer of pillows protecting him from the dirt and stone.

“You’re panicking. There’s no way this is going to work,” Yurio yelled, tugging his PASIV line hard and sending a small spatter of the IV fluid and some of his own blood across the floor. He pulled the kerchief from his waistcoat pocket and stalked off, rounding the stone corner and disappearing up the stairs, likely to go sit on the roof of the little structure they were hidden inside. Victor, groggy, sat there on the small pile of pillows for a few moments, not looking at the rest of the crew. Chris put a hand on his shoulder quietly, but he could barely compose himself.

“You’re doing your best,” Mila offered.

And he knew he was, there was no question about that, but his main concern was whether or not it would be enough. They’d been at this for too long. Or rather, it felt that way because they were working on a different clock, not one where the seconds were minutes and the minutes were days and the days were centuries, or wherever it was easy to ignore how long one had been meandering about. But even still, it wasn’t just them - Yuuri was running out of time as well.

Victor looked over at him, sleeping, his glasses set on the little round stone table next to the PASIV case. A bee buzzed over him lazily, coming to rest on his hand for a moment. It seemed to be looking for something. Victor was too. He wondered if it was the same thing they were seeking.

Chris mentioned something about Yurio worrying that Otabek was probably getting bored without him. Georgi agreed.

“Don’t belittle them,” Mila said quietly. She turned back to Victor. “It will be okay. We can do this.”

*

“I can tell that you’re shaken,” Yakov told him, sipping at his coffee as they walked down the street in the gloomy late afternoon weather. Rain spat at them listlessly. Victor kept his hands in his coat pockets and stared at the ground quietly. “It can rock anyone to the core. Not every pillar is sturdy enough to withstand a good shake like that, Vitya. Listen, Yurio is new and impressionable, and he is also just inexperienced enough. That’s invaluable. He is brimming with new techniques and ways to apply them. He’s another prodigy, but I don’t know. He’s not gone deep enough into it all yet, and while Yuuri has, I still worry.”

“You’re still worried about me, old man.”

“I’m not the one making brash decisions. It’s a good team you have. Yurio would be a fine addition. But your experimentation, your bravado there... You know, Lilia has never changed her totem. I’ve only done it once. The adjustment period was frightening. This… is frightening. I have every right to be worried.” Yakov gestured with his free hand and shrugged. “I’m going to worry about you. All of you. That’s what I do.”

“Well, I had a stellar example to learn from. We all did.”

“You say that, Vitya. I can only dream of you actually utilizing what you’ve learned.”

Victor smiled at him broadly. “I do, Yakov. We do. You’re our foundation. You set us under the clouds and stars and said ‘Reach for them’ and showed us how. Didn’t you?”

“It’s hard to reach any goal if you spend eternity only playing at it. Don’t be reckless.”

*

Georgi watched the traffic rolling by, and idly asked Mila for a bite of the pretty slice of cake she’d ordered. She offered him one, but as soon as he took the fork from her, Victor and Yurio appeared on the other side of the crossing. Georgi paused, but then quickly stuffed a bite into his mouth as Mila got up to start walking to the hotel. He followed.

Victor and Yurio followed as well - and when they all reconvened it wasn’t hard to tell that Victor was becoming nervous again. Not just because their rigged kick this time around was placing chairs on the little balcony of the room several floors up, but because he was that much closer to diving into limbo himself. He did what he could to help Georgi set up the small explosives that should drop the balcony before collapsing on the bed for a moment, face down and bringing his head up just enough to stare at his hands, splaying them out against the lush duvet. His ring seemed to glow in the soft sunlight filtering through the layers of sheer curtains over the balcony’s glass door. He screwed his eyes shut, and then opened them again. It was still on his right hand. He took it off and looked for the inscription. It was blank.

This was very much a dream. It felt more like a nightmare.

"Lilia's proud of you, you know. She knows it will work out,” Georgi said, sitting next to him and patting him on the back a few times.

“She’s seen Yakov go through this.”

“That’s how she knows it can be done.”

Mila, sat down in her chair already, had her feet up on the little table they were going to use for the PASIV soon enough. After a good while, they set up the lines, made sure her phone alarm was set and synchronized to Georgi’s, and settled in. Before Georgi pressed the button that would release the somnacin, she offered her hand to Victor. To her obvious yet pleasant surprise, he took it. Victor looked over at Yurio, who looked at both of them from his chair, that same angry fear that had been in his eyes since his first experience with this team.

“Alright,” Yurio said.

*

“He’s got to learn that he’s been dreaming,” she said, leaning over the railing and eating a spoonful of gelato.

Victor shifted the way he leaned on the railing, resting his knee on their PASIV briefcase and reaching to loosen the tie of the suit he was wearing. Yurio conjured up some loose coins in his pocket, and threw one into the fountain they stood in front of. Its marble figurehead tugged at Victor’s own memories a bit, not a complete match but not seeking to be one, either. Victor held his hand out for a coin, and when their youngest teammate gave the remaining two to him, Yurio asked, “It makes sense to me. An easing back into reality, right?”

“Provided we all get our timing right, and no one panics or causes us to have to cut things short, yes,” Victor said. He handed Mila one of the coins and tossed his own in.

Mila handed Yurio her gelato, and stepped back, the clack of her heels on the stone of the walkway loud and her flowery circle skirt like something out of… well, a dream, flouncing about her as she twirled around, wound up her arm and then tossed her coin into the fountain’s wide basin. She said sweetly, “Being a tourist makes me tired. Time for a nap.”

Yurio shrugged, this suit as uncomfortable as the one he knew he was laying around in back in the little ivy-covered tower in the middle of Chris’ garden maze. He took the jacket off and let it hang over his shoulder, his fingers under the collar as they wandered back to their hotel.

*

“I come here to think. I suppose that’s one thing I have in common with Yuuri - hell, maybe the only thing. I’m not even good at skating like he is, but damn if I don’t like to have some place to go that’s just me and no one else. Well, save for the staff or patrons. But here, when I’m under, it’s like time’s paused long enough for me to wander in and out of every nook and corner I’ve been through without worrying about running into a room full of people exercising, or anyone coming to find me and tell me that use hours are over.”

Victor kicked his feet up along the boards they sat behind and looked out over the ice as Yurio spoke. The work they’d done to rig the kick was done for the moment, and they weren’t yet ready to hook Victor up to the PASIV. It sure was cold in this portion of the large sports center, and the both of them were huddled up under their hoodies. After some time, he said, “You know, in here, you can be just as good as he is. That’s the best and most lucrative part of dreaming, isn’t it? The fulfillment. It’s not too good to lose yourself like that, Yurio. And in a place this size, this recognizable, hm? A full rebuild from memory. It’s very impressive, though, I will give you that. What I would have done for a space this size while I was training with Yakov at the very beginning instead of having to build one myself. I suppose it’s relative, though - he speaks very highly of you and what you’re capable of. And that you frustrate him as much as I did is what told me I needed you on this team. Chris came from a different angle, but because of that he’s a fantastic foundation. Georgi still leans very hard on the caution that Yakov instilled in him and tried to instill in me, too. Even if he’s a little unconventional he is still a good anchor. Mila is learning what she can get away with and how to maintain control while still breaking the rules. She’s very artful at it.”

“And you’re the loose cannon.”

“I... wouldn’t call myself that,” Victor stammered awkwardly. “Is that what Yakov says?”

There was some hesitance in answering that for just a bit before Yurio sighed. “Yakov says you’re the one who always pushes others to find their limits and redefine them. I think he’s putting it nicely…..Yuuri asked me what I thought about joining your team.”

“And what did you tell him, your idol?”

“That I was worried. He said he was, too.”

“So that’s your takeaway. I see. Yurio, there is no one else I’d rather have with me here, as a tether. Architecture aside, you and Yuuri are essential to this team because you both allow me to see what we’ve achieved to this point and what we can achieve in the future. It’s good to have confidence, but it’s also good to have fear. Not a lot, not in the same way that Georgi and Mila have it. They play it safe, almost on the edge of too safe. And that’s alright. I need them, but I need my Yuris too.”

Yurio looked at him from under his hood darkly.

From the far side of the rink they saw some movement, and Yuuri slid out onto the ice. The soft sound of his blades cutting across it were like a pin-drop. There was no music. Yurio in turn slid down into his seat, surprised at this. “Is this you?” he hissed at Victor, who was watching intently, back stiff.

This had to have been, Yurio knew it wasn’t himself, and he figured this was exactly what he had missed on their last team trip down - when he’d opted to stay with Mila and watch the two of them take their first trip with their new totems one level further. Well, Victor’s second trip. Yuuri’s first. It was supposed to be quick and coordinated, but then Victor came back without Yuuri. He remembered Victor sitting up and instantly leaning over to grab at Yuuri, their hands still intertwined and PASIV lines bouncing against one another as he pulled at Yuuri’s shirt. In the sudden upset, Mila’s subconscious arose, and they were set upon before she could even get up to cover the hotel room door. Yurio had woken up to hear Chris saying that Otabek made a hell of a mix in reference to the somnacin reagents they were using, but then the jovial air in the small stone room left the second they realized that Yuuri wasn’t waking up.

He watched now as this projection of Yuuri completed one of his figure skating routines, the one that had taken him through a whole season full of accolades; something he wished he could do himself, something he’d seen Victor cheer Yuuri on through much harder than Yuuri’s own skating coach would. And it ended with him, his arm outstretched, looking for Victor along the boards at the top of the rink. Not where Victor stood with Yurio now, oddly. Yurio watched as Yuuri’s exhausted heaving turned to panic, looking around the rink, obviously lost, watching something that wasn’t visible to them at the time while shuffling around for what Yurio assumed was his totem.

At this, he squeezed his own totem in one pocket - his grandfather’s old Zippo lighter. The one that had a worn down flint and hadn’t been refilled with fuel since before he was born. The one that would flicker into a bright little flame, dreamside, to tell him where he was.

His other hand tightened around the charge detonator for their own kick: a dropping out of the bottom of the arena into the parking garage below.

“He forgot his ring,” Victor said, flatly, narrating for Yurio what had happened on that trip down for them as it played out again in front of them.. “His brain hadn’t completely comprehended that he has something new to work with, and it’s not there on his hand. Instead, he’s trying to use his old totem... it’s not going to work in the same manner. His skates caught as he was turning around, and that’s when he fell.”

And Yurio watched as the back of Yuuri’s head made contact with the ice.

“Yakov isn’t always wrong, you know,” Yurio said aloud after he was able to regain his composure over the shock of that sight. The tone in his voice told Victor that he’d put their conversation into complete context now. “Yuuri knows how to listen to a coach. He’s an athlete. Yakov isn’t any different.”

“I know. I was Yuuri’s coach here, for this. I was his architect. I failed him, Yurio. I wanted to give him a good practice space. I wanted it to be positive, and to let him relive that moment where he had broken his last record, and I faltered. I couldn’t even get to him before I woke up. I was grabbed, instantly. My own subconscious saying this was wrong was quicker than any regular hypnagogic jerk.” He shifted his weight, and then vaulted himself over the boards. The projection of Yuuri was gone, and Victor slid out onto the ice on his own pair of conjured skates. He swept about as well as Yuuri did. Yurio started to complain that they didn’t have much time to mess around when they heard someone shout out from one of the higher levels of seats - thankfully inaccessible by stairs down like most of the lower levels. Before Victor could even stop to pull out his weapon and get them to cover so Yurio could calm himself and his own projections down, he was distracted, forgetting in that split second how to lend himself the ability to skate.

For a second time Yurio watched a panicked fall and heard the echo of that awful sound.

And _then_ he heard music. Faint, low, and slow, but it was music.

*

Victor sat up, startled by the peel of thunder offshore. There was sand under his feet and the sound of the tide hitting the shore in a slow, rhythmic roar. But this wasn’t a wharf in St. Petersburg. It was Hasetsu. Or at least he felt like it was Hasetsu. There was a bark. It was Makkachin, and Victor instantly looked down at his right hand. His ring was there. Good. This was good.

This had to be it. He could finally find Yuuri. Take him back. Wake him up.

As he followed his beloved poodle along the beach, knowing that this Makkachin that approached him excitedly wasn’t real either, and just a projection, Victor saw the ruins and remains of Hasetsu as he looked inward from the coast; it was finally abandoned and empty, ghost-like and falling apart. The castle itself seemed to be in a disparaging state of collapse - and it hurt to see all of this, even if he knew it wasn’t real. It hurt to finally see Yuuri sitting on the rocks below the ramparts, alone. Makkachin ran off to go play in the water, his bark fading.

“You found me,” Yuuri told Victor as he meandered over, shoeless, the wind blowing his hair into his eyes. Yuuri held his hand up and out, reaching for him from where he sat, and there in the light of the sun overhead, the ring on the finger of his right hand glinted. Victor approached him quietly, intertwining his fingers with Yuuri’s once he was close enough. He pulled him up and into a tight hug. “I was content sitting here. I was okay with never seeing you again. I can’t believe it,” Yuuri murmured against his neck, his tears hot and running down Victor’s shoulder and chest before catching on his shirt fabric. They parted after some time, Victor holding him at arm’s length and dreading having to do what he needed to do next, what he needed to do before he decided he wouldn’t, and what he definitely needed to do before he absolutely couldn’t.

“I have this,” he said, and between them, in Victor’s hands, was their resolution to this; agun. Yuuri frowned. “It’s quick. We need to be quick about this. If we’re not…”

“I can’t do this.”

“We can’t stay here, Yuuri. It could be years, _ages,_ forever before Otabek’s sedative wears out. Haven’t you already been here long enough?”

“Maybe I want to stay here. It’s like time stands still here. I don’t have to worry about anything.”

“You can’t stay here, Yuuri.”

“I don’t have to worry about failing at my athletic prospects. I don’t have to worry about what I’ll do afterwards if I do fail. I don’t have to worry about worrying all the time. I don’t have to worry about failing you.”

“Don’t you get lonely? Don’t you get sad and lonely and don’t you miss me?” Victor asked him, his voice cracking at the end a bit. It did seem nice here, though. The beach, so soothing. Makka was here.

Yuuri wiped at his eyes with a fist, jostling his glasses a bit. Victor noticed one of the lenses was broken. “I do, but it feels as if I only just saw you this morning, and I stop worrying about it as much. I think to myself, I’ll just stay out here a little longer. I can walk back and see you when I’m done.”

“But you’ve not been done for some time. It’s... It’s got to have been years for you. You need to come back with me.”

“How can I believe you? How do I know you’re not just… you’re not just… fake?”

“How many times over have you imagined me, Yuuri? And how many times has it been like this?” And when he said that, he saw the change in Yuuri’s face as that earlier recognition completely solidified itself. It was followed closely by abject fear, and Victor could see him battling with coming any closer or running away, with taking him at his word that this would bring them back to reality.

“Too many. And not like this at all. You’re here, and you’re here to break my heart. We never should have used the rings, it’s all wrong.”

Victor could feel it all slip from him a bit. He didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to stand there with his gun and do this, they could stay until the sedative wore off. It would be okay. He didn’t have to stand there and watch his lover cry these big tears at having to leave this quiet, solitary spot, where there was no pressure to do anything or be anyone or worry. But then his mind recalled Yurio. It recalled the moment leading up to his waking up in limbo, and the horror at the thought of poor young Yurio knowing that Victor’s trip down was out of both of their hands. “No, Yuuri, it’s fine. These rings… they’re not like this gun. They’ll get us out of any dream before we ever have to use this. They always will. You just have to remember that they’re going to, and you have to remember that they build upon everything you had before. They represent us and look at this, look at all of this - you’ve been here so long without me.”

“I had this,” Yuuri said, holding out his old totem. A well-worn photo of himself and his long since-passed poodle, Vicchan. “It wasn’t working.”

“I know. I know.”

“The ring wasn’t working either, I couldn’t remember what it was for.”

“It won’t, neither of these will work. Not here, not this deep.”

“I couldn’t remember what I needed to do. But I do now. You’ve got to break my heart, Victor, I know. It’s just a terrible, terrible dream. But it’s still a dream.”

They stood there, staring intently at one another, Yuuri’s eyes wet and red. Victor raised his arm, the sun glinting off of his ring before it passed behind the dark storm clouds that were gaining speed over the choppy water. There was a faint flicker of lightning and another peel of thunder, louder. Closer.

*

Yurio stirred where he lay struggling to wake up like any other regular teenager might if there were music being played at him in his sleep. Mila watched him and wondered if he was actually going to wake up before he should. With a hard gulp and a resigned sigh, he prayed silently that Georgi would get his own timing right, as it might allow them another shot if this didn’t work. She held her totem in her palm, her knuckles white, eyeing Victor’s body on the bed. The PASIV on the nightstand between the two sleepers ticked away quietly. So did the charges in the ceilings of the rooms below theirs.

*

Victor ran his hands through Yuuri’s wet hair, and he couldn’t hold back the deep sobs that welled up from within the even deeper recesses of his chest - his sight blurred and he could feel the whole of his face blaze up and his jaw shake hard enough to bite his tongue far back; he leaned down and gave Yuuri a kiss, mouth full of blood and salt.

Yuuri’s hand tightened and twisted so hard that Victor could hear threads along his shirt seams popping, and he groaned, and had to gently push Victor away so he could still breathe, ragged and short. They both knew it wouldn’t be for much longer. Victor apologized for being a poor shot. “Nerves. It… it’ll be okay, I think,” Yuuri gasped out. He wasn’t sure if Victor could hear him over the sound of his own crying, and he couldn’t really see his face through his wet, fogged, and broken glasses, so he repeated it. “Just. Stay with me.”

Victor could only nod. And wait.

He thought about how much happier they would be, soon enough, topside and awake. Off aways a bit, Makkachin barked. When he looked back down, Yuuri was gone. Sniffling and confused, Victor did notice that there was a ring on one of the fingers of his right hand. He held it up and out to look at it. The wind whipped his hair about his face, and lightning struck again just offshore.

Makkachin darted past him, barking.

He looked over his shoulder. Yurio.

“Hey, old man, we’re running short on time,” he heard.

*

Yurio rounded back down the aisle where he had left Victor and the PASIV, and contemplated what to do next. What would Yakov have him do? Otabek? Yuuri? Victor? He kicked the older man’s body before slumping down onto the floor dramatically. He sat there quietly, the music still hauntingly echoing about the place. He’d calmed down enough so as not to shake the whole of the arena down on himself, or for that matter, the projections of the staff that his mind was generating to chase him down and expel him from the arena and the dream itself. 

And from where he sat he spent a little time eyeing the briefcase, trying to do the math in his head.

*

He took in one long sucking breath that was full of the scent of roses before he felt like he was falling yet again. Yuuri shot up out of his chair with a loud, shaking gasp of air, and he leaned over the side of the chair to cough and throw up spit and bile. He could feel someone’s hands on him - a pair taking him firmly by the shoulders and another at his arm and wrist, trying to pry his grip apart from Victor’s own hand, and it took him a moment to realize that he was about to yank Victor out of the chair he was in. Looking over his shoulder at Chris and Georgi, he leaned back a bit, coughing and trying to turn in the opposite direction. Doing this he noticed Mila and Otabek leaning over Yurio, who was still sleeping. Otabek had paled, his jaw set worriedly, and Mila’s hand moved to her mouth, her face red, wet, and her eyes wide.

He shook Georgi away as soon as his PASIV line was disconnected and the needle removed, and Chris steadied him, and moved his chair out of the way as he made to kneel down and sit with Victor, who was still hooked up to the PASIV, and still dreaming. He still held tight to Victor’s hand, and reached his free hand down to touch at the ground - to feel at the exposed cement floor of the warehouse and not the well-tamped soil of the hedge-maze garden that he remembered first touching down on what felt like years ago. Moments ago, even.

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Georgi asked. “He should be waking up, why aren’t they waking up, Chris?”

Chris said the same, and that they just needed to give him a moment. “Are we sure they’d made that last kick?” Mila wasn’t sure. She barely remembered the feel of the floor falling out from under her before she was seeing Georgi - their balcony collapsed seconds later and they’d woken up. They disconnected the two of them from the PASIV, as the timer had run out and the somnacin solution wasn’t flowing any longer.

“...He wanted to make sure,” Yuuri heard himself say. “He’s got to know where he is, he’s just watched me die. He wouldn’t want to stay there without me… right? That’s how it works, doesn’t it?” The wedding ring on his left hand clicked against the one on Victor’s own as he held and squeezed it.

“He made it there, and brought you back, then? They had to have missed the kick-”

“Well, hold on. Should be any moment now, let’s give it a bit. It may still be the sedative at this point,” Chris said, looking squarely at Otabek. “It’s a hell of a mix.”

Yuuri could only nod, and wait.


End file.
